You had a Date
by Code Green
Summary: It has been over fifty years since Cpt. Steve Rogers was supposed to meet with Peggy at the Stork Club, and he is surprised to find, on the anniversary of their dance date, that even though she is gone, she has still provided for him. A little bit of literature for Memorial Day. Thank you to all our soldiers.


**In honor of all our military members who have faithfully served our country in times past, now, and in times to come. Thank you.**

_"Peggy."_

_ "I'm here."_

_ "I'm going to need a rain check on that dance."_

_ "All right. A week next Saturday, at The Stork Club."_

_ "You've got it."_

_ "Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late. Understood?"_

He had a date. That last dance with Peggy Carter had haunted Steve Rogers ever since the day he had first woken up to find himself in the 21st century, hopelessly lost in a New York that wasn't the place he had once known. For countless hours he had wandered the city, trying to familiarize himself with the place he had grown up in. Broadway was somewhat the same, though much flashier and...dirtier. Discouraged when he realized that this _wasn't _the world he had once known, he had gone into hiding, though he swore to himself that it wasn't actually _hiding_, in the solitude of small gyms throughout the city. Punching bags seemed to be his remedy; had at first taken his mind away from the memories, from the pain. But not long had gone by when they returned with a vengeance, plaguing his sleep, his every waking moment.

He had found some relief when Nick Fury had assigned him to the Avengers. In warding off evil demons from some galactic world, Steve had found somewhat of the old spark that had once fueled the fire of Captain America. He had been himself when in the midst of terror, directing others effectively and with great authority. But now that the fight was over, now that the Avengers had all gone their separate ways, he was left alone again to the haunts of seventy years ago. Bruce Banner had offered to take the first avenger with him to whatever country needed him the most, but Steve was a patriot, bound and determined to stay within the confines of the United States unless he was needed elsewhere by the military. He had done more than his share of time in Europe, and he preferred the business of New York City life to the isolation of Swedish mountains and German woods.

Now, however, as he unlocked the door to his studio, he was met with his empty living quarters. He had gathered relics of the 1940s, using them to tastefully decorate the place so that it could pass for a home, but Steve had learned long ago that a home was made of people, not relics. He made his way into his living area, turning on the old radio that played the "oldies" channel, which, to this day and time, meant no further back than music from the 50s and 60s. Steve had no particular liking for the music of the 60s, but the 50s had more of the style that he was accustomed to. Elvis still fascinated him to no end, and he had fast become a favorite of the soldier's. Even his music couldn't cheer Steve tonight, however, and the man wondered dismally why he was in such a bad mood. His eye caught sight of the Thunderbird, brightly colored, its chrome shining on its calender page, and there was a date circled beneath the vehicle. Steve moved closer, and his eyebrows narrowed when he noticed the date that stood out from the rest.

It was _the_ date. The precise day when he was supposed to have been with Peggy but instead had been buried beneath a wall of ice in the frigid wilderness. That explained his unhappiness and, with a sigh, Steve ran his hands through his hair before turning to the door and leaving his home again. He made his way out into the New York streets, most of which were still in enthusiastic repair from the recent attack. Debris lined the streets, smashed cars had been flung into buildings, and trees had been uprooted in the attack, making travel difficult, but Steve pressed forward, moving towards the place where he was supposed to have been over fifty years ago.

He didn't know why he hadn't come earlier. He couldn't understand why now, after all this time, he made his way to where The Stork Club had once been. The building had been torn down in 1966, and in its place stood a small park, Paley Park. Surprisingly, the place hadn't suffered any damage. All of the trees were intact, and the patio chairs and tables stood strong. One glance at his watch told Steve that it was just now eight o'clock, and he smiled tightly, looking at the couples that sat together, perfectly oblivious to the rest of the world, engrossed completely in each other. That would have been him and Peggy, Steve reasoned sadly. Then he wouldn't have been here alone.

There was one other lone person in the park, and Steve quickly glanced over her at first, but then, as the firelight from a table candle flickered, it caught the red of her dress, making it shine like a blazing flame to the military captain. She had long dark curls cascading down her back, pinned back by a simple barrette, and her back was turned to the hero. She was speaking quietly to herself, in a soft voice that was difficult to hear, and there was something in her hand, a photograph of a woman who looked very familiar.

For reasons he couldn't explain, Steve found himself moving towards the young woman, coming to a stand directly behind her and staring over her shoulder at the picture she held between slender fingers. Peggy Carter gazed back at the captain with determination and strength, character traits that he had loved so much about her, and Steve's voice slipped past his lips, uncalled for by him.

"Where did you get that picture?"

Bright hazel eyes turned to look up at him, set against a stunningly beautiful face. Naturally red lips pulled back into a faint smile, and the hand that wasn't holding the picture reached up to brush a loose strand of hair out of the woman's face.

"I have many like it. This was my grandmother, Peggy Carter. Lovely, wasn't she?"

There was no British accent in her soft voice, but the gentle commanding tone, barely present but still existent, nearly convinced the Avenger that this was indeed a grandchild of Peggy Carter. Steve's face was generally unreadable, but a trace of surprise flickered through his blue eyes, and the woman smiled again, pulling a faded folder away from her side and placing it up on the table.

"You look familiar, sir," she spoke, opening the folder and pointing to a picture.

Steve leaned forward, squinting to see the picture clearly. It was a bit faded with age, the edges of the black and white photograph torn slightly from years of travel, but he remembered well the young man that looked away from the photographer with a look of determination on his face. He was much thinner, much smaller than Steve could recall, but it was certainly a man he had known well.

"Is this you?" the lady asked softly, cocking her head so that she could look up into Steve's face.

He nodded and then looked into her eyes again.

"Who are you?" he questioned.

"Eleanor Prescott," Eleanor beamed, holding out her hand. "It is a pleasure to finally have found you, Captain America."

"You were looking for me?"

"Yes," Eleanor nodded. "My grandma used to tell me how I was to go to the Stork Club and wait for a Steve Rogers, and for years I have been coming to this place, waiting. I never thought you would come, but now, here you are."

She shifted her feet uncomfortably, that small smile still visible at the corner of her mouth.

"She didn't tell me what I was supposed to do when I found you, except that I was supposed to tell you something."

Steve waited silently, wondering what Peggy would have told this lovely granddaughter of hers. Initially, it had stung, that Peggy had gone on and married while he remained frozen in time, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it was what she should have done and it was what he would have wanted for her. Peggy moved on with her life, but as was evident with Eleanor, she hadn't forgotten him. She had, indeed, seemed to provide for him, leaving him with a small part of herself to find him later.

"What were you supposed to tell me?"

Eleanor blinked and then looked up, gazing steadily into the captain's eyes, marveling at how blue and intense they were.

"You had a date."

The simple comment shouldn't have taken him by surprise, but as Steve stood there, a thrill trembled through him. Peggy truly hadn't forgotten him. Even in her absence, she had thought of him, had taken into account how he would feel when he woke up to a new world and a life without her. It gave him such a sense of peace and confidence. There was no need to be afraid of this lovely woman who sat here, for she didn't gaze up at him judging him, nor did she know what to expect from him. She hadn't come here knowing everything that was to happen. She was trusting Steve, and her grandmother, with those four simple words she had spoken.

"Your grandmother was to teach me how to dance once," Steve smiled. "I suppose that is why she sent you here."

The woman's face lit up with joy, and she nodded, making a move to stand. Before she could finish getting up, Steve had moved her chair for her and had taken her hand, helping her to her feet even as he pushed the chair back in. To his delight, she didn't fight his gentlemanly act, but instead seemed to appreciate it. One of the terrible difficulties to adapting to the 21st century had been learning how to treat women, for few women seemed still to appreciate the ways that Steve had been raised with, and he was relieved to find that Eleanor didn't feel that way.

"There isn't much music," Eleanor frowned slightly, listening to the faint strains of music that were coming from a restaurant nearby. She couldn't decipher the words from this distance, but the tune sounded like a jazz piece from the 40s, and Steve hummed to it for a moment before taking her hand and drawing her into the center of the park. Everyone else was too involved with their significant other to pay much attention to the couple who stood in their midst, and Steve preferred it that way. He still hadn't danced with anyone, and he wondered, briefly, if he should have been sharing a dance with Eleanor. She wasn't Peggy, the woman he had always wanted to dance with, but there was something special about this woman, something unique and beautiful. Perhaps it was the way her eyes sparkled, or the way her smile lit up her entire face. No, she wasn't Peggy, but Peggy hadn't wanted him to wait for her, and she had sent in the best person she could think of for this dance, her own granddaughter who bore certain striking resemblances to her grandmother.

The captain's hands moved easily, taking one of Eleanor's hands captive in his while his free hand moved to her waist. The dancing he recalled was nothing like the contemporary motions that could be found in clubs or on television. The dance he remembered watching involved grace, poise, and decency. It was true, he had never danced, but with the 40's jazz, he found that his feet moved on their own accord, and he danced with the lovely Eleanor, both moving in full harmony together, each enjoying the other without words.

"How many years have you been coming here?" Steve asked as he stumbled over his feet for a moment and then righted himself with a chuckle.

"Seven years, sir," Eleanor smiled. "You dance well, for never having danced before!"

"You are doing a great job teaching me," Steve laughed.

"My grandma would sit for hours, telling me stories about you," Eleanor said as their dancing slowed. "I was never sure whether I could believe her. But now I've seen what happened to this city. I saw you in action, and you _are_ the person she always spoke about."

"Your grandmother gave me the confidence I needed to do what I did with the Avengers," Steve said as he stopped dancing and stood still, gazing down at the woman who looked up at him. "I have much to thank her for."

"She was a good woman. She had a long, happy life, Steve," Eleanor said quietly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "I am sorry that you couldn't have seen her again before she...moved on."

"It's alright. I like to remember her just the way she was when I last saw her," Steve said gently.

"She was just as strong-willed as ever when she left," Eleanor laughed lightly. "I wish that I had her sort of fire."

A bell tolled somewhere in the distance, marking that a full hour had passed since the couple had met, and Eleanor glanced to the side, thinking for a moment before she turned back to the captain.

"I have to go. It is getting late."

"May I walk you home?"

The words had slipped out of Steve's mouth before he could think, and he blushed at his forwardness, but Eleanor didn't seem offended. Instead, her eyes brightened and she nodded.

"I would like that very much, sir. Thank you."

A large grin spread across Steve's face, and he offered his arm. Eleanor looped her arm through his, and together they walked out of the park.

Hope flowed through the captain as he and the lady walked in silence to her home. Finally, he had another young woman to talk to, one who didn't think he was strange for his old-fashioned ways, but who seemed to appreciate it. She gave his arm a soft squeeze as they moved together through the night, and he smiled. Maybe he didn't have to be alone anymore. Maybe, for the first time in years, Captain America had found someone who would help him through the rest of his life. It was a comforting thought, and Steve looked forward to whatever lay ahead.


End file.
